The Son

Mr. Douglas stood in darkness, surrounded on four sides by the walls of the shelter. He was barely able to make out the shapes of the tools and fabrics that stood to attention like soldiers, ready to aid in the renovation of the barn as a wedding place. The troop of construction workers had retired long ago; the decorative white fabrics now hung half mast, the glue guns and nail guns and soldering guns piled into forgotten heaps on the dirty ground. The battle to turn this old place into a beautiful wedding venue was only half over. If a ceasefire had not been called, Mr. Douglas knew they would have won it by spring.

They had chosen this place on a Monday, and Mr. Douglas thought of himself an honorary member of the wedding corps when he was selected to be a strategist; part of the decision-making. He wore a badge of honour, festooned with his rank, as he drove his son and future daughter-in-law out to a site that he considered the perfect place for them to join forces: ‘Father of the Groom’.

He was right. This barn was chosen. He marked a red circle around it on his map right away. 

Today was Monday again – almost Tuesday, by now. Mr. Douglas had driven here alone this time, against the doctor’s recommendation, avoiding potholes lest he do any more damage to himself. The war had been rough on his body, but broken bones could heal. Broken hearts, however, had much less of a chance.

He rested on a bale of hay, weary from the battle, and stared wistfully at the sky through the open doors of the barn. Moonlight streamed through every nook and cranny, and he noticed that there was an extra star in the sky tonight. He never seen that one before. Huge and round and sparkling. Unmissable. Right up there beside the moon, ah, it must be giving orders to the other stars. Quite right.

Best get this place cleaned up. He stood. No other time for it. He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the pain and marched towards all the bits and pieces that had been training for their wedding post. The hardest ones to look at were the white sheets that covered tables and chairs to keep them safe from dust. He’d seen it many times in his previous field of work, those solemn white sheets, protecting the dignity of what lay underneath. And now ran it in the family. 

The navy ink of the night soon became friendly pink and greens, the hue of a new morning, as Mr. Douglas worked tirelessly to pack up the barn – no need for all these chairs and tables and other miscellaneous decorations now. Soft rays of sunlight glittered through the roof of the barn, dousing everything inside and making things dance as though they were on fire. He briefly wondered if they still would have been dancing at this hour had the order been given to charge ahead. Knowing his son, the answer – of course – was yes. 

“General Douglas?” 

A soft voice came from behind him, but he didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“I thought I might find you in here.” She didn’t move into the barn. She didn’t move past the door. She stayed behind her barricade as though following unspoken orders. He was grateful for that. 

“You really don’t need to do this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was understanding and kind to him, despite the aftermath. “I’ve already asked the planners to—”

His answer was gruff and snappy, as though answering his commanding officer and not the woman who should have become his family today. “No time like the present.” A grunt caught in his throat.

“But your arm…”

She said it gently. She meant it gently, of course he knew that, but he didn’t take it gently. He spun to stare at her. He was not useless – why did everyone treat him as though he were? His friends. His neighbours. His squadron. There was a lot of fight still left in him, despite his age and condition. This stupid arm. He hadn’t even been granted permission to carry the coffin with it.

The barn was silent for an extended moment, the empty space between himself and his should-be daughter-in-law was nothing more than a no-man’s-land, until she crossed it, unspeaking, and began picking up some of the tools that were lying about the floor.

He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he knew that she would be frozen forever in this memory if he did. If he was sure of anything in life, it was that you should never leave a man behind. It was better for her to move forward and not tether her to what should have been.

Her engagement ring glistened like a teardrop in the sunlight as she placed the tools into a green toolbox. His son would have made a wonderful husband.

The new star had long since reached lights out, but Mr. Douglas would come back tonight, and every night, to spend time with it. It was just him now. He never expected to come back from the war, but he did. He never expected to bury his wife, but he did. He never expected to outlive his son – no father should have to outlive their son – but he did.

He watched as she organised the tools with military precision, just as his son would have done. They had truly been a perfect match.

His doctor warned him about coming here today of all days, but he couldn’t sit at home knowing that the beautiful barn was an unkempt mess of should-have-beens, could-have-beens, and would-have-beens. She knew it too – that’s why she was here. She never would have come looking for him otherwise.

Quite right. Mr. Douglas thought as his gaze followed her to her post. No other time for it.